ron yazinski
Your love began with sex, and ends that way too.
And you ignore the expectant mid-act yawn,
And then the final pat on the back as if you had just hit a good tee
shot,
Because you know you can count on old habits.
Your body responds
As if it’s standing in front of the candy machine at work.
You avert your eyes so that
You can’t see the reflection of your sorry face or ample gut.
With muscle memory you insert your money,
And press the same buttons you’ve pressed for the last decade,
And out drops something you no longer have the appetite for,
But take it simply because it’s there.
If you’re lucky, the divorce will be amicable.
By which is meant
She gets the house and the bed with the expensive linens
You stole from that high class Bermuda resort,
As proof you once had the balls to do anything for her.
In turn, you have your pills and bad eating habits,
And the urn you two bought on that honeymoon,
Which was going to hold your mingled ashes forever.
Now, it’s where you keep your change for the candy machine.